


Bucky Barnes: on top of the Polls

by Nejinee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Crack-ish, Humor, M/M, Steve Rogers gets hot for democracy, election humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: Steve is passionate about the rights, freedoms and voters of America. Sometimes too passionate. Bucky usually has to bear the brunt of this passion. He takes one for the team on election night.





	Bucky Barnes: on top of the Polls

**Author's Note:**

> Based on crazy talk during the recent elections in the stucky discord. Thanks to everyone in there who contributed. I'm sorry, I don't know what I've done, but here it is. *lets it out of its cage*

“Thank you,” Bucky said through gritted teeth and pulled together a smile for the concierge at the hotel. He snapped up their room key before Steve could start ripping his actual hair out in the lobby, in public.

“I can’t believe this!” Steve wailed while Bucky shoved him at the elevator.

“Can you _please_ help with the luggage?” Bucky grunted, pushing Steve’s stupid duffel at his gut. Steve scowled and backed into the elevator while Bucky tried to decipher their room card and pamphlet … thing. 

“Fourteen, no, fifteen,” Bucky scowled at the many buttons and jabbed both for good measure.

“We can’t miss it, Buck,” Steve railed, crammed into the old, way-too-small metal box with another large and overdressed supersoldier. He held his duffel tight to his chest, squishing it like some ridiculous, oversized stress toy. Bucky knew from experience that if it wasn’t the bag in Steve’s hands, it would be _him_ , and he wasn’t up for that yet. His time would come.

“Steve,” Bucky breathed slowly through his nose. “There’s nothing we can do. Our flight’s cancelled and all airlines are down because–”

“It’s _election night_ ,” Steve yelled in their far too tight confines.

“No, it’s because of the two feet of snow blizzarding outside," Bucky glared at him, probably half deaf now. "Trust me, if elections could control the weather, we’d be up shit’s creek and getting shot at by the weather man himself.”

* * *

 

 

It _started_ in 1940. It has, as yet, not ended.

At that time, it hadn’t _really_ been a concern. Steve was twenty-two and still the smallest and simultaneously the biggest pain in the ass this side of the Brooklyn Bridge. Bucky had been twenty-three and pretty amused by Steve almost all the time. Why? Well, Steve was cute, okay? He was sharp as chicken bones in a broth and just as unpleasant and prickly. He was loud, and mouthy, _so mouthy_ , and got himself into all kinds of trouble. When he was ten, it was cute watching a ball of elbows try to stand up for others. At sixteen, it’d been way more bloody noses, broken knuckles and Bucky’s ma reaming them out for stupidity predicated on Steve’s innate lunacy. At twenty-two it was a whole new ballgame. At that age Steve had cottoned on to the concept of government and restrictions and sexism and the masses being controlled by the few and…well, Bucky’d had to hold on real tight once Steve learned he had just as much right as the mayor to cast a vote and influence others.

It was around the time FDR ran for a third term. It had been _nuts_. Everyone _knew_ it was nuts, but it was _real_. It had set Steve frothing at the mouth like some rabid fox caught in a den. 

Steve followed politics a bit before, campaigning, standing with unions he had zero affiliation with, and picketing whatever scumbag organization was railing against the fallout from the depression. But in 1940 it was something very real, very important to Steve to stand up and be counted; maybe because he didn’t see how else he, a one hundred and ten pound twerp, could make a dent in the effort. Then Bucky was drafted and it all…didn’t matter anymore because Bucky had had to _leave_. Suddenly he hadn’t had to listen to Steve ranting about votes for women and inequality of bodily autonomy and the crossover between religious rights and human freedoms. 

Then _Captain America_ had burst into his life and everything else, everything Bucky still got the shakes about late at night, faded into shadow. 

Now it was the twenty-first century and Bucky Barnes was a card-carrying homo with a meat-slab for a partner and a migraine as dependably painful as the electoral college.

 

* * *

Bucky huffed as he trudged through the crowd on Front Street. It was bullshit, this whole thing.

Here he was, searching for a damn coffee shop because their hotel was charging, like, ten goddamn bucks a pop, and even if the conversion rate leaned towards the US dollar, Steve just couldn’t abide by such highway robbery. _The audacity!_

So Bucky was outside in the early evening sunset that washed Toronto in a warm, purpling glow, hands stuffed in his coat pockets, hoping this night would just be over already. His boots squeaked through the snow. 

The plane ride over had been torture enough, what with Steve chatting to all the local New Yorkers heading home and reminding them they still had a few hours to get out and vote. 

_“Voting isn’t a duty, it’s a right!”_

Bucky had caught Steve actually drawing a map on a napkin, indicating a young mother’s nearest polling station in Brooklyn. She probably didn’t even live in Brooklyn, for fuck’s sake. 

Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell Steve that most of the folks on the flying metal coffin had only engaged in his ludicrous chit-chat because he was, you know, _Captain America_ , and he was _pretty_ and blond and had arms as big as hams _._ Bucky was certain that if that young woman was okay with Cap himself staring deeply into her eyes and regaling her with the standardization of the New York County Board of Elections, then that was her damn prerogative. Bucky sure as hell had heard enough for this election/decade/lifetime and was grateful for the in-seat movie and headphones.

He looked up from the snow, finally recognizing the coffee shop logo from the airport. At last. He headed up the steep steps, held the door open for a struggling mom and her three kids and a stroller, then made his way into the warmly lit place.

He got in line and scanned the digital menus set up behind the counter.

Coffees were definitely needed and maybe some of those everything bagels Steve always ranted about. Bucky hated them, but he’d do anything to keep Steve’s loud, flapping mouth busy. There were other ways, of course, but the night was young. The more time Steve had food in his mouth, the less time he had for blaring like a stuck pig about their flight having been rerouted. 

Of course their flight had to detour. _Of course_ it happened on election night, right when the country was lit up like a firecracker across every damn state. _Of course_ the weather was so bad in New York that all airlines were diverting to other cities like Detroit and Grand Rapids and whatever was north of the Lakes. Hell, Bucky was actually mildly pleased that they hadn’t been given a choice on destinations and had their plane rerouted to Canada. Maybe this would be a blessing in disguise? Maybe this would lessen the frantic impact of elections that always, always tore Steve into a hot mess in more ways than one?

Bucky’s ass would be grateful for it, at least.

He sighed and the line moved closer.

The honey crullers looked good. Bucky chewed his lip. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Next!” the woman at the furthest cash waved at him. Bucky walked over, eyes still scanning the many, many doughnut and bagel options.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” the woman smiled. Her dark curls were pulled back tight under her branded hat/visor.

“Uh,” Bucky grunted, realizing he hadn’t planned what he was supposed to say at times such as this. He rarely had to do this part of the interaction. Usually Steve or Wilson would take his order while he hid in the shadows like an unruly Rottweiler.

She smiled at him, then her eyes glanced at the people in line and back to him. Was he taking too long?

The crullers looked warm and fresh, but the shiny, sugary balls looked good too, in lots of colours.

“Some of those,” he pointed. “The donut butts.”

She continued to smile. “I’m sorry?”

“The donut butts, you know, the circles,” Bucky made a ring with his flesh index finger and thumb.

“Oh!” she smiled wider, eyes twinkling, “You’d like some timbits?”

Bucky blinked. Then nodded.

“Sure, what flavours would you like? We have chocolate, sour-glazed, old fashion glazed, sour cream glazed, blueberry, strawberry and raspberry.”

Bucky swallowed. “Um. Can we get–can I get all of them? How many can I have?”

“As many as you like, sir,” she was so peppy. “We sell them in boxes of ten or twenty.”

“Sixty please,” Bucky said.

Her smile seemed to freeze, “Um, yes, of course!” she tapped at her screen. “Do you need anything else?”

Bucky shifted. His ass felt … well. Maybe he should have put the plug in after dinner. Whatever, this was his situation now. He was _planning ahead._

“Coffee,” he said. “Big.”

“Large coffee,” she nodded.

“Two,” he added, “please.”

“Certainly, how would you like them?”

He paused and tried to recall what Steve had ordered at the airport. Fuck, what was it? Steve loved whatever he’d been given.

“A double-D?” Bucky said.

The woman blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“A double-D,” Bucky said, slower. He could recall the two Ds written on the lid of Steve’s cup. DD. Double. D.

The woman frowned, “Um, okay. Do you perhaps mean a double-double?”

Bucky’s brows flew up, “Yes. That. That. Big Double-double.”

“Alrighty,” she puffed out a breath and tapped that in. Then she looked up. Did she work all day, doing this for dumbasses like him? _Awful._ “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah, four everything bagels with lox and cream cheese.”

“F-four?”

Bucky nodded.

“I’m sorry, we don’t sell…lox… here, but we have sliced chicken or turkey? Bacon?”

Bucky sucked his teeth. “Bacon.”

“Right, so four everything bagels, cream cheese, bacon. Toasted?”

“Yes,” Bucky grunted, wishing this was over already, but his stomach was sounding less like a rumble and more like an impending earthquake.

She tapped all that in, “And anything else?”

Would this never end? There was a ringing in Bucky’s left ear. “You got…uh, crullers. I’ll take them all.”

“ _All_ , sir?” the cashier said.

“Yup,” he yanked out Steve’s credit card and the wad of cash they’d pulled at the airport. It was colourful and shiny and very fucking scary, so the credit card would have to do. Why was the money so slippery?

He swiped the card through the machine.

“Sorry, you can tap, sir,” the cashier said, watching him fail at life.

“Tap?”

“Yeah, just…over here,” she poked the card machine thingy. “Press it…no, here. I can…okay, there we go.” She handed the card back, not even checking the name on it. Would she be weirded out that some guy in a dirty baseball cap just used Steve Rogers’ platinum card to buy donut butts? The security in this country was _bonkers_.

“All righty,” she smiled wider somehow. “Here’s your receipt, and if you go down to the end of the counter, your order should be up soon.”

“Thanks,” Bucky grunted and moved aside, making room for the petite older women who were next in line.

He watched the people in the coffee shop, constantly having to shift out of the way. The line moved fast and everyone definitely knew what they were doing. Why did coffee have its own damn language these days? If it wasn’t venti skim frappucinos, it was donut glory holes or whatever.

“Donut holes!” he hissed, eyes widening. “Not donut butts!”

God, he was so dumb.

 

* * *

“Steve,” Bucky shouldered the door to their hotel room open. “A little help?”

“Uh huh,” came Steve’s response.

Bucky got inside, arms weighed down by the massive bags the coffee guy had given him, and a tray of drinks. The coffees really _were_ big.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky growled, stomping over to the small table provided and dropping the food and drinks down on it.

“Give. Me. That–” Bucky got up in Steve’s face and yanked the TV remote out of his massive paws.

“Wait!” Steve hissed, looking around Bucky at the flashing news broadcast. 

“Are you watching _Fox News?_ ” Bucky spat out. “What the hell, Steve?”

“It was the first news channel I recognized!” Steve wailed. “Don’t turn it off, Buck!”

Bucky dodged Steve’s fingers and held the remote aloft.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Bucky, they’re talking about democratic voter turnout,” Steve said. “This is important.”

“It’s not while we’re here, Rogers,” Bucky pushed at Steve’s broad chest. He kept pushing until Steve sat on the queen-sized bed with flowery coverlets. “You’ve done your part. There’s no point getting all bent outta shape over the election.”

Steve huffed out a breath and flopped backwards onto the bed.

His sweater rode up, exposing his pale belly.

“I know,” Steve wiped at his hair and stared at the ceiling. “I know, Buck. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to, try not to get riled up.”

“Right,” Bucky pulled back. “I got you dinner. Let’s eat. Maybe I can find some dumb movie to watch instead, okay?”

“Okay…” Steve said.

 

* * *

Bucky washed his face at the small bathroom sink.

Eating sixty donut holes hadn’t been the wisest choice, perhaps, but it made Steve focus on something other than politics.   Bucky stared at his tired face in the mirror. It had been a long few months.  Sure, it wasn’t Steve’s fault he cared so much, it was just…a lot.  Bucky loved Steve for his passion, even if it kind of ruined their lives every couple years.

Now was not the time to complain. Politics were important. Citizens’ rights were important. Steve’s heart was in the right place.  Being stuck in Canada might actually ease the election’s passing, or so Bucky hoped.  He’d left Steve to wallow on the bed in a sugar coma. He’d even brought the remote into the bathroom, in case. Maybe they could weather this stupid storm and come out unscathed, with minimal yelling.

“Damnit!”

Bucky turned.

“Steve?” he rushed for the door and threw it open. “Are you okay? What ha–”

Bucky saw red.

Steve was bent over the damn TV like a fuckin’ gremlin, eyes wide as the face of a reporter blabbed on-screen.

“I _told you!_ ” Bucky stomped over. 

“You seeing this interview?” Steve cried out, frowning at Bucky. “They’re saying there are lines three blocks long in Ohio! In heavy democrat areas! This is fuckin’ insane, Buck. The voters have the _right,_ the goddamn _right_ to voting stations within reach and not have to be subjected to hours of waiting and standing around. What about the old folks and the parents with little kids! How’re they supposed to manage their time when–”

Bucky slammed his fist into the side of the TV where the on/off button sat.

The TV gave an audible _crunch_. 

Oops.

“Get on the bed, Steve,” Bucky hissed.

Steve glanced at the TV, which was now black. “Uh, I think you broke it…”

“What did I say?” Bucky scowled.

“Bed, got it,” Steve scampered back and away, clambering onto the bed. He sat in the middle of the mattress, surrounded by timbit boxes and wrappers.

Bucky rubbed at his eyes. 

“Okay, you need a distraction. Let me help you get your mind off this crap.”

“Bucky, that’s not necessary,” Steve scowled right back.

Bucky sighed and wandered closer, climbing onto the bed as well.

“Fine, if you don’t want a suck-job, then we’re watching Netflix on my phone.”

“Okay,” Steve slid down on the pillows. “Fine. Get in the way of the democratic process.”

“The democratic process will do fine without you, you moron,” Bucky sighed again and knee-walked over to Steve’s side, slumping down beside him.  “Hand me that paper thing with the Wi-fi password. I hope Canadian Netflix has some Moana for your dumb ass.”

“Hmf,” Steve muttered into Bucky’s arm, but did relax a little.

—

See, it was cute, the way Steve raged against the chains of bureaucracy. It actually could be good some times. You see, Steve got mad at politics when shit was bad. But on the flip side, he also got very _inspired_ by progress and the positive multicultural political revolution. It was something new to him, to see women and people of color getting their chance to speak, to fight, to vote.

“It's democracy in _action_ ,” Steve had gasped once while railing Bucky after a series of news reports regarding voter fraud came out. “Justice for the people! Ooh _, yes, Bucky_.” Bucky’d barely had warning that time, Steve just slamming him against their front door and kissing him blind before bending him over their marble countertop.

Bucky had experience with this side of Steve, sure, but it could get exhausting.

 

* * *

Bucky was dozing as the movie went on. The music was so nice, so relaxing. They must have watched this thing a million times by now.

“Hmm,” Steve hummed into his hair, hand rubbing along Bucky’s spine.

“You calmed down?” Bucky said.

“Mmf,” Steve grunted, his chest lifting.

Bucky was the one holding his cellphone up. He was thankful the metal arm didn’t fatigue much.

Steve’s hand moved south.

“Watch it,” Bucky murmured.

Steve was probably smiling.  “You have a nice ass, Buck,” he rumbled, the sound running right through Bucky’s cheek.

“I know,” Bucky sighed.

Steve's fingers paused.  Bucky held the phone upright, waiting.

“Are you…” Steve turned, twisted so he could look down at Bucky awkwardly. “Are you wearing a plug?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Bucky said with a sharpness in his voice. “Obviously.”

Steve blinked at him.  “When did you–” he frowned, fingers digging deeper, pushing at Bucky’s denim some more. “In the bathroom?”

“Nah,” Bucky stretched, his back clicking. When he relaxed back onto the bed, he was just lying on Steve’s hand. “When we left Miami.”

Steve’s eyes widened.  “You went through security with a _buttplug up your ass?_ Bucky, are you _insane?_ ”

“Somewhat,” Bucky rolled over and tossed his phone aside. At the scandalized look in Steve’s eyes, he smirked. “Hey, I was prepared, pal. Who knows when some preppy student gets you talking about their campus-run voter education programs? I don’t know when that’s gonna happen. You could be fine and dandy one second, and the next, biting down on student union pamphlets and popping a boner on an aircraft. Nobody knows, Steve.”

Bucky had made sure to not insert the one metal plug they owned, of course. He wasn’t _dumb._ Plus, good luck to anyone who tried to scan him, his arm and then his butt. A pat-down worked just fine. The guy who’d done duty at TSA had clearly given up on life and his career, so Bucky was a free man to go wherever he pleased with whatever objects he wanted up his ass for his own pleasure.

“Bucky, you make me sound like a hornball freak,” Steve was wearing his hang-dog expression. 

Bucky rolled closer and caressed the side of Steve’s face with his metal hand. “That’s because you are one.” He whispered gently.

Steve dropped his head into Bucky’s neck. “I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t start apologizing yet, Stevie,” Bucky patted the man’s hair. Steve pulled back to look at him.

“Yet?”

“Yet,” Bucky raised a brow. “We gotta get through tonight first. Then you can apologize.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled all sideways. His hand sidled down to the hem of Bucky’s jeans.  “Fine, you keep me busy, and we don’t have to talk politics anymore.”

Bucky grinned. “Amazing.”

 

* * *

“Oh, yes, Stevie,” Bucky gasped into the comforter. “Just like that.”

He was face-down and naked, getting eaten out by the sexiest man alive. Bucky was in _heaven._

Steve shifted behind him. They’d been at it a while, and Bucky felt loose and soft like jello relaxing from a mould.

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, scratching the tips of his fingers into the bedspread. It was quilted and rough and strangely good on his skin. Steve moved his knees, opened him up wider.

“Let’s uh, try something else,” he huffed.

“Yay,” Bucky hummed, eyes closing as he felt Steve’s skin against his own. Steve was moving him into whatever position he needed.

Bucky loved this.  “Oh, _yes_ ,” he said when he felt Steve’s dick pressing in close. “That’s the ticket.”

Steve laughed, sounding a little shaky. He felt hot, and very wet from all the precome.  “You really are the best, Bucky,” Steve murmured, and pushed in.

Bucky was loosened up and relaxed from the plug and Steve’s ministrations, so it was all smooth sailing from here on in.  He was blissing out at the pressure.  Steve shifted around before getting into what must be a good position, then started moving some more.  Bucky just languished under the attention, his eyes staying closed, enjoying the press and pull of Steve working him over.

Steve usually laid atop his back, covered him, but this was okay too. Bucky didn’t have to do a damn thing for once.

Steve hissed, then paused.

He started up again, slower.

Bucky pressed his ass back, wanting more.  “Faster, c’mon Steve,” he grunted. “Do me like that time we visited the White House and you had to hide your boner long enough for us to find a fuckin’ printing closet. Remember? I had to give you a blowie so you didn’t jizz over the fuckin’ national monument.”

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve grunted back, driving in harder.

Bucky chuckled into the bed. Steve’s rhythm was off.

Strange.

He shifted back.

Nothing more than a slow ride was happening here. Bucky opened his eyes.

“Steve, are you distracted by the fact you can’t actually be in New York?”

“Uh, nope,” Steve answered.

Hmm.

Bucky shifted around, getting onto his hands.  Steve was usually so focused when they fucked, what was–

“Are you watching the election on my _cellphone_?” Bucky barked, immediately twisting about and slamming Steve flat to the bed with his feet.

“You _fucking idiot_ ,” Bucky snarled, snatching his phone out of Steve’s one meaty paw. _He should have known!_ Steve always held Bucky down with both hands for better leverage!

Bucky looked at his phone, where some besuited asshole was being interviewed about immigration or something, going by the chyron flashing underneath his smiling face.

“You’re fucking me while watching the news? While _politicians_ are being interviewed? _Steve!_ ” Bucky could chew glass he was so incensed.

Steve had the good idea to look repentant.  “It’s a Canadian channel, Buck,” he murmured, dick still somehow hard and flopping against his belly. Like that was a reasonable excuse.

“You sick fuck,” Bucky growled. He tossed the phone onto the pillow beside them. “Now _I_ gotta do all the work, don’t I? I have to keep you damn distracted because if i don't you're going to go insane and I'm gonna have to take you out back and shoot you!”

He straddled Steve’s hips and pressed him to the bed, glaring down into those wide blue eyes. “Thank your fuckin’ stars I got the inclination, pal, else you’d be naked out on the street with only the glow of fresh snow to highlight your depravity.”

“Oh Jeez,” Steve breathed, looking properly worried.

 

* * *

“Unh,” Steve gasped, covered in sweat and still somehow, not tired out.

Bucky had been riding him for what felt like _forever_.

“This is torture, Bucky,” Steve hissed as the next polling results came in.

Bucky’s phone was far off to the side where Steve couldn’t reach it, volume on full.

“Your punishment,” Bucky breathed out from above him, “As I said, is to fuckin’ stay still while they read out the damn results.”

It was one of Bucky’s crazier notions, but it was working excellently.  Who knew you could edge Captain America by not letting him come when a polling result came in?  So far the East coast was done and dealt with and Steve was almost crying with the need for release. 

“Bucky, please,” he begged, arching up. 

“Nuh-uh, pal,” Bucky pressed him down easily. “Indiana’s gotta be called. Maybe it’ll be the same as Florida?”

“F-fuck Florida,” Steve gasped, eyed rolling.

Bucky began the slow drive on, gently rolling his hips with Steve inside him, as he’d been doing for a while now. 

He clenched and shifted and made Steve give off the sweetest little noises. 

“And Indiana has been called,” the voice on his phone chirped.

Steve tensed and looked up at Bucky.

Bucky grinned.

“What’s it gonna be, Stevie? A wash for the Dems, or a clean sweep?” He slid Steve out a bit, then rammed home again. Steve shuddered. “Or maybe the Republicans will get in, make sure it all goes to shit. Or could the tides be turned, hmm?”

Bucky bent down to kiss Steve.

“Indiana is calling it in as fifty-one point two percent to the democrats, forty-eight and a bit to the republicans.”

Steve moaned loudly and grabbed at Bucky’s hips to pull him back down.

“I don’t think so,” Bucky pushed his hands off and Steve whined loud and clear. “Election’s not over, bub.”

* * *

 

 

“Are we done with this shit now?” Bucky murmured into Steve’s bicep the next morning.

Steve grunted back.

“My ass is on fire,” Bucky went on.

“Sorry,” Steve murmured and turned to kiss at Bucky’s jaw. “M’sorry, Buck.”

“You damn well should be.”

Steve opened his eyes and looked at Bucky in the morning light.  “You’re the cruelest, sexiest person on earth and I don’t deserve you,” he said.

Bucky frowned and grunted, curling himself closer.   “Damn right I am.” He relaxed into Steve’s warmth. Then his eyes opened, a sharpness flickering in there.

“I know what to wear for Halloween though,” he said.

Steve blinked, love-drunk and confused.  “What?”

Bucky grinned and leaned in to whisper.  “I’m gonna be a poll worker.”

Steve’s brow crooked.

Bucky grinned wider. “Gonna wear those little name tag stickers, a nerdy plaid shirt and _a lanyard._ That'll get you hot, huh?”

Steve laughed deep in his chest, jostling Bucky.  “That’s not sexy, Buck.”

“Fine,” Bucky said, “Then I’ll dress up as the Declaration of Independence.”

Steve smirked, “Didn’t that guy in that movie steal it?”

Bucky scowled. “Okay, then I’ll wear an ‘I voted’ sticker,” he leaned in even closer. “One on each nipple and nothing else. And I'll make sure they're _our_ stickers, which proves we went out, stood in line and voted in the next. Federal. Election.”

Steve’s eyes widened and darkened, his right hand flexing on Bucky’s hip.  “Oh no…” he whispered, already visualizing it. “You wouldn’t dare do that.”

Bucky stared right back at him.

"Fuckin' try me."

**Author's Note:**

> the fondly used working title: Ameri-boner. Thanks for reading this. :)
> 
> I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. I'm tired and full of cake.


End file.
